Void

April 13, 1993, 6:30 PM, Halls of Hogwarts 

Adam Clarke

The early evening light filtered through the windows of Hogwarts, casting long shadows across the stone floors as I wandered the halls. My footsteps echoed softly in the quiet corridors, a rhythmic counterpoint to the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind.

Tonks’ words from our conversation by the lake kept repeating themselves, a persistent whisper I couldn’t shake: “You really need to talk to him.”

The ‘him’ in question, of course, was Dumbledore. The very idea of seeking out the Headmaster, of laying bare the secrets I’d been carrying for so long, sent a shiver of anxiety through me.

I let my feet guide me, barely registering the familiar paintings and suits of armor I passed. My mind was too preoccupied, weighing the pros and cons of Tonks’ suggestion. On one hand, the thought of opening up to Dumbledore terrified me. How could I possibly explain everything I knew, everything I’d seen, without sounding utterly mad?

On the other hand, the burden of carrying these secrets alone was becoming almost unbearable. I needed answers. I would just head over to his office and—

I stopped in my tracks. What the Hell am I thinking? I can’t just waltz in the man’s office and blurt everything out! It’s absurd.

For one, how could I possibly explain that I was a self-insert in this world? That I had memories of a life where all of this— Hogwarts, magic, Dumbledore himself— was nothing more than fiction? I’d be lucky if Dumbledore didn’t think I was completely mental.

At worst, well… I didn’t want to contemplate what a few select wizards might do with someone they believed would make an interesting object of study. The Unspeakables came to mind.

And then there was the other issue. The one I’d been trying very hard not to think about.

Grindelwald’s contract.

My stomach churned at the mere thought of it. That binding magical agreement, forced upon me last summer, that prevented me from disclosing what had happened. I could still feel the phantom pain from the time I’d attempted to scan it— a searing agony that had nearly brought me to my knees.

I leaned against the cool stone wall, closing my eyes as I tried to steady my breathing. The contract was like a noose around my neck, tightening every time I even considered speaking about those events.

And without being able to explain that… How could I possibly make Dumbledore understand the full scope of what was happening?

My eyes snapped open as a new thought occurred to me. Maybe… maybe I didn’t need to tell Dumbledore everything right away. Maybe what I needed to do first was break the contract.

I pushed away from the wall, a new determination flooding through me. My skills in Spellbreaking had improved significantly over the past months. I’d been practicing, honing my abilities, driven by the secret hope that one day I might be able to free myself from Grindelwald’s binding.

Was I ready to take this on? The rational part of my brain screamed that no, I absolutely was not. This was magic far beyond my current abilities, created by one of the most powerful Wizards in history.

Another part of me, however, the part that had faced down scores of adult Wizards and Witches and fought to protect Hogwarts, whispered that I had to try. Because if I couldn’t break this contract, I’d never truly be free to do what I wanted.

I turned away from the path towards Dumbledore’s office, my mind racing with half-formed plans. I needed somewhere quiet, somewhere I could work without interruption. The Room of Requirement, perhaps?

My feet were moving before I’d fully formed the thought, carrying me swiftly through the corridors. I knew exactly where I needed to go. It was time to see if I could break free from the chains of Grindelwald’s magic. Only then could I even consider revealing the full truth to Dumbledore.

As I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was hurtling towards something monumental. Whether triumph or disaster, I couldn’t say. But one way or another, things were about to change.

As I stepped into the Room of Requirement, I found myself in an ancient bedroom, sparsely decorated with intricate wooden furniture and faded tapestries. A large window dominated one wall, overlooking an illusory field of sunflowers. By the window floated Helena, her ethereal form turning as I entered.

“Zero.” She said, her voice soft and melodious. A warm smile lit up her face, making my heart skip a beat.

“Helena.” I breathed, surprised but delighted to see her. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Is this…?”

“My childhood room.” She confirmed, gesturing around. “I asked Alef Ard to recreate it for me.”

I nodded, taking in the historic surroundings. Then her words fully registered, and I felt a jolt of surprise. “Wait, Alef? Does that mean…?”

Helena’s smile turned knowing. “Yes, Alef has been watching. He’s told me why you’ve come. You’re going to try to break Grindelwald’s contract.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “Alef already knew? And told you?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a bit foolish. Of course Alef knew. I shook my head, chuckling softly at my own surprise. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked. We can’t really view Alef as human, can we?”

Helena nodded, her expression understanding. “Indeed. Alef is a spirit of wisdom, spanning the entirety of Hogwarts grounds. His perception far exceeds what any human could comprehend.”

I let out a small sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Sometimes I forget just how… vast Alef is. It’s a bit unsettling, knowing he can perceive so much.”

“Yet he chooses to use that knowledge to help.” Helena reminded me gently. She floated closer, her presence comforting despite her incorporeal form. “In this case, to ensure you had support in your endeavor.”

Hidden in her words was the statement: “stop stalling”.

I felt both sheepish and grateful. “You’re right, of course. I’m glad he told you. I… I don’t think I could do this alone.”

Helena’s gaze softened. “You won’t have to, my dear. I’m here to help you in any way I can.”

She gestured towards a worn desk near the window. “That was my writing desk. Many hours were spent over it in concentration. Perhaps it would help you in your endeavor, as well…”

I approached the desk, feeling determined. As I ran my fingers along its smooth surface, I could almost visualize the scene.

Turning back to Helena, I felt a surge of affection.

“Thank you.” I said softly. “For being here, for understanding.”

Helena’s form shimmered slightly as she moved closer. “Always, Adam. We’re in this together.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other, so much left unsaid yet understood. Then, with a deep breath, I settled myself at her ancient desk. 

As I began to focus my mind on the magical contract, I felt Helena’s presence beside me, a comforting and strengthening force.

“A mirror, if you please, Alef?”

Immediately, an ornate mirror formed before the ancient desk. I examined my reflection closely, my mismatched eyes seeing beyond the physical. My soul thread, that enigmatic strand of energy, floated around my body, never quite touching it.

Unbound and free, and yet my body isn’t.

Taking a deep breath, I focused intently on my own form, searching for the telltale signs of Grindelwald’s contract spell. At first, I saw nothing, my frustration mounting with each passing moment.

“You can do this, Zero.” Helena’s gentle voice encouraged from behind me. “Look deeper.”

Bolstered by her faith, I redoubled my efforts. I had to separate my own magical energy from the foreign spell woven into my very being. It was like trying to spot a single thread in an intricately woven tapestry, but I refused to give up.

Drawing my wand, I began to focus harder. Inspicere Empiricus!

After what felt like an eternity, I finally spotted it— a near-invisible film of magic clinging to my skin like a second layer. My heart raced with a mixture of triumph and trepidation.

Found you.

Focusing all my will on this magical binding, I raised my wand and spoke the words I had practiced countless times: “Libera Maledictum!”

The instant the incantation left my lips, the world around me shifted dramatically. The bedroom, the mirror, even Helena— all of it melted away like mist in the morning sun. I found myself in a vast, formless space that I instinctively recognized as the confines of my own mind.

But I wasn’t alone.

Before me loomed a powerful, shapeless creature. It was darkness and light, solid and ethereal all at once. I could feel the raw magical energy radiating from it, recognizing the signature of Grindelwald’s magic.

This, I realized with a start, was the personification of the contract— the magical binding given form within my mindscape.

The creature seemed to regard me, though it had no discernible eyes. I could sense its curiosity, its surprise at being challenged. Then, without warning, I felt a pressure against my mind— not painful, but insistent.

A voice that was not quite a voice reverberated through my consciousness. Attempting to escape your binding, little rat? You would dare?

I stood my ground, drawing on every ounce of courage and determination I possessed. This was my mind, my being. Grindelwald’s magic had no right to hold sway here.

I do more than dare. I projected back, my thoughts firm and resolute. I intend to break free.

The formless entity rippled, its energy fluctuating in what I sensed was amusement.

Such bravery. It mused. Or is it foolishness? Do you truly believe you have the power to undo what your better has wrought?

I felt a flicker of doubt, quickly squashed. This was what the contract wanted— to make me question myself, to weaken my resolve. I wouldn’t give it the satisfaction.

I responded by gathering my will like a shield around me. I know. This is my mind, my magic. You don’t belong here.

As if in response to my declaration, I felt a surge of energy from deep within me. My soul thread, usually so elusive, suddenly blazed into visibility, wrapping protectively around my mental form.

The creature recoiled slightly, its formless mass rippling with what I hoped was uncertainty. 

This was my chance. I had to act now, to press my advantage while I had it. Summoning every scrap of magical knowledge and willpower I possessed, I prepared to launch my assault against Grindelwald’s binding.

It was always going to come down to combat, when it concerned me.

The formless being and I circled each other in the vast expanse of my mind, two combatants sizing each other up before the first strike. I moved first, launching a barrage of mental energy towards the creature. The assault took the form of razor-sharp shards of light, cutting through the mindscape.

But the being was ready. It twisted and contorted, its amorphous form allowing it to dodge most of my attack. What few shards connected seemed to pass through it with minimal effect.

Undeterred, I pressed on. I imagined roots sprouting from the ground, attempting to ensnare the creature. For a moment, it seemed to work. Tendrils of my will wrapped around the being, constricting its form.

The creature, however, pulsed with dark energy. The roots withered and crumbled, and I felt a backlash of pain lance through my consciousness.

We traded blows back and forth, a dizzying dance of attack and counter-attack. I conjured walls of fire, only to have them extinguished by waves of inky darkness. I hurled mental lightning bolts, which the being absorbed and redirected back at me.

Each time I thought I had gained the upper hand, the creature would reveal new depths of power and resilience. It was like fighting a storm— every time I dispersed one part, another would form and strike.

Despite the creature’s strength, I wasn’t without my own successes.

My soul thread, glowing with an otherworldly light, lashed out repeatedly, each strike causing the being to recoil and shrink momentarily. I could sense its surprise at this unexpected weapon, something it clearly hadn’t encountered before.

Encouraged, I redoubled my efforts. I wove complex patterns of energy, forging a net of chains to trap the being. For a breathless moment, it seemed to work. The creature writhed within my mental construct, its form flickering and destabilizing under the force of my pure will.

But then, just as hope blossomed in my chest, everything changed.

The being let out a silent roar that shook the very foundations of my mindscape. It expanded rapidly, growing to impossible proportions. My chains shattered like spun glass.

Before I could react, tendrils of dark energy shot out from the creature, wrapping around me. My soul thread flared brightly, trying to intercept them, but there were too many. I felt myself being overwhelmed, my mental defenses crumbling under the onslaught.

Foolish child. The being’s voice echoed through my mind, dripping with disdain. Did you truly believe you could break this binding?

I struggled against the restraints, but it was futile. The creature’s power was simply too great, its hold on me too strong. With a final, crushing wave of energy, it overpowered me completely.

The mindscape shattered, and I was violently thrust back into the physical world. The transition was jarring, disorienting— and then the pain hit.

It was beyond anything I had ever experienced, beyond anything I could have imagined. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire, every cell screaming in agony. The magical backlash of my failed attempt coursed through me, a punishment for my audacity in challenging the contract.

I was dimly aware of falling to my knees, of Helena’s panicked voice calling my name. But it all seemed distant, unreal compared to the all-encompassing torment wracking my body.

As the pain threatened to consume me entirely, one thought crystallized in my mind: I had failed. The contract remained unbroken, and now I was paying the price for my hubris.

There would be no happy ending here, no triumphant victory over Grindelwald’s magic. Only pain, defeat, and the crushing realization that I had grossly underestimated the power I was up against.

As darkness began to slowly encroach on the edges of my vision, I could only hope that I would survive this ordeal.

The pain nearly doubled, a relentless torrent of agony that defied description. Every nerve ending felt like it was being simultaneously frozen and set ablaze. My muscles spasmed uncontrollably, my body a puppet dancing to the cruel strings of Grindelwald’s magic.

I was vaguely aware of Helena’s frantic attempts to help, her ghostly form passing through me in a desperate bid to offer some comfort. But her ethereal touch brought no relief. Even Alef Ard, the ancient spirit of Hogwarts, seemed powerless in the face of this magical backlash.

I could hear his faint buzzes in the furthest reaches of my mind, but no more. He was useless in this battle.

“Zero! Please, hold on!” Helena’s voice was distant, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. I wanted to respond, to reassure her, but I couldn’t form words through the overwhelming pain.

Desperation clawed at my mind as the torment showed no signs of abating. I couldn’t endure this. I wouldn’t survive this. 

Then, a thought surfaced through the haze of agony— a dangerous, terrifying thought.

The void.

My irrational fear of it had always held me back from fully exploring that aspect of my abilities. But now, faced with this unbearable torment, even the void seemed preferable.

With the last vestiges of my willpower, I reached for that dark, empty place within me. I threw all caution to the wind and plunged into the void, immersing myself completely in its endless expanse.

The change was immediate and shocking. The pain didn’t disappear entirely, but it became distant, muffled. In its place came a creeping numbness, a deadening of all sensation. The void spread through me, filling every corner of my being with its formless power.

Around me, the air began to warp dangerously. Reality itself seemed to bend and twist, unable to reconcile my presence. The magical energy assaulting me recoiled from the void’s touch, dissipating like mist in the wind.

For a moment, relief washed over me. The pain was gone. The torment had ended.

But then I realized the true cost of my desperate gambit.

The void wasn’t just affecting the magic around me— it was consuming me from within. I could feel myself slipping away, my thoughts becoming sluggish, my emotions dulling. The very essence of who I was began to dissolve into the endless presence.

Distantly, I heard Helena’s voice, frantic and tearful. “Come back to me! Please, don’t lose yourself! Zero!”

I wanted to respond, to reassure her that I was fine. But I couldn’t. Her words meant nothing to the void, and I was becoming one with it.

My memories started to fade. Who was I? Why was I here? Did it even matter? The void offered peace, oblivion. Why fight it?

Helena’s pleas grew more desperate, but they fell on deaf ears. I was drifting further and further away, losing myself in the endless expanse of nothingness.

Part of me knew I should be terrified, should be fighting against this with every fiber of my being. But that part was growing smaller by the second, swallowed up by the endless.

As the last fragments of my consciousness teetered on the brink of oblivion, a single thought flickered through my mind: Had I saved myself from Grindelwald’s magic, only to lose myself entirely to the void?

The darkness deepened, and even that final thought faded away.

È̴̘̞̺̦̄͐̇ͅn̸̨͉͓̪̍̉̀d̶̹͍͈̯̖̂̀̋͝ļ̸̩̜̖̠̐̑̑̅̃͝ê̷̛̟̪͒̅̚͠s̵͕͂̂s̵̛̖̫̓̅͑̓͝.̷̡͓̂͠ ̸̛͕͖͎̒̃̂̑͒S̸̨̞̬̳̦͔͌u̷̪͎̝̗̓̈̌̀n̸̤̖͚̙̣͐d̸̥͙̣̞͒è̶̲̹̲͜ŕ̵̩͉̝̌̐̿̍ͅe̸̡͔̣̪̖̯̊͋͠r̷̫͖͘ͅ.̷̧̳̮́͂͒ ̸̨͚̎Ĉ̸̛͇̃̔͘a̷̛̙̽͒t̷̰̖̏͝ả̵͉̭͇̭̍̾̃č̷̳̼̤̪̞̪̉ḻ̸̢̪̝̈y̵͓̺͈͓̆̌̉̈́ͅs̵̝̱͍̀m̵͕̚.̴̝̟̩̞̒̓̕

The void continued to spread, its endlessness seeping into every corner of my being with a deep hunger. As I teetered on the brink of oblivion, however, something deep within me stirred— a primal instinct for survival, a fierce determination that refused to be extinguished.

You will not.

With monumental effort, I began to push back against the encroaching darkness. It was like swimming against a powerful current, every movement a struggle against the void’s pull.

I will not.

But slowly, inexorably, I began to reassert control over my own mind and body.

“No.” The word came out of my mouth, my voice growing stronger with each passing moment. “Endlessness. I see it in my grasp. I must— no. I will not. I will not!”

As if responding to my final declaration, my innate magic surged forth, intertwining with my force of will. The combination created a brilliant light within the darkness, pushing back against the void’s influence.

The numbing sensations began to recede, replaced by a tingling warmth as feeling returned to my body.

With a final, Herculean effort, I suppressed the void‘s power, conjuring mental chains of purest light to encircle the endless entity. Reality snapped back into focus around me, the Room of Requirement materializing as the effects of the void faded away. I found myself on my knees, gasping for breath, my body trembling from the ordeal.

As my senses fully returned, I became aware of the room’s oppressive silence.

I looked up, seeking out my companions. Helena hovered nearby, her spectral form flickering with what looked like concern. I tried to speak, to reassure her, but my voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

Turning my attention inward, I reached out to Alef, the spirit of Hogwarts.

“Alef.” I projected mentally. “Are you there? Are you alright? Did I…”

The response came not in words, but in a series of gentle, soothing buzzes that resonated through my mind. It was comforting, like a parent calming a frightened child. Yet, beneath the calming exterior, I could sense an undercurrent of fear. Alef, the ancient and powerful spirit of Hogwarts, was afraid— and that realization sent a chill down my spine.

I had hurt him with this power before, and I’d almost done so, again.

I turned back to Helena, noticing for the first time the shock etched across her ethereal features. Her eyes were wide, and if ghosts could pale, I was certain she would have.

“Helena.” I managed to croak out, my voice slowly returning. “Tell me what happened; did I hurt you?”

She hesitated for a moment, seeming to gather herself before speaking. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Zero.” She said, her tone a mixture of awe and fear. “When you were channeling that energy… it was like death itself had entered the room. The air grew so cold, and shadows seemed to deepen all around you.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat at her words. But Helena wasn’t finished.

“And your eyes.” She continued, her gaze locked onto mine. “Both of your eyes… they turned completely milky white. It was as if… as if you were looking into another world entirely.”

I blinked rapidly, raising a hand to my face as if I could somehow feel the change she described. But my eyes felt normal now, and when I glanced at my reflection in a nearby mirror, I saw that one was white, and the other was black.

The implications of what had happened began to sink in.

“I was right to avoid this power.” I said and shuddered as I leaned more heavily on Helena’s ancient desk. “Too subtle, too much influence. My mental strength almost failed me.”

I closed my eyes, my mind drifting back to the events of last year. The experiment with the Disillusionment Charm loomed large in my memory, a stark reminder of the void‘s destructive potential. I had infused the charm with the void‘s power, naive and curious about the possible applications. The result had been far more terrifying than I could have imagined— an item, completely unmade, erased from existence as if it had never been.

That incident had shaken me to my core. Since then, I had avoided tapping into the void at all costs, terrified of its unpredictable and devastating effects. And yet, here I was, having just used it again out of sheer desperation.

As I sat there, trembling slightly from the lingering effects of my ordeal, another thought struck me with the force of a Bludger. I realized, with a mix of irony and self-deprecation, that I had been acting exactly like Harry.

Harry, who had discovered a hidden power of his own, had been hesitant and afraid to use it. I remembered clearly the advice I had given him— to embrace and master his power rather than fear it. I had spoken with such conviction then, extolling the virtues of understanding and controlling one’s abilities.

And yet, here I was, doing the exact opposite with my own power. I had let fear dictate my actions, avoiding the void instead of learning to control it. The hypocrisy of my situation hit me like a wave, and I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

“I’m such a hypocrite.” I muttered, shaking my head.

Helena, who had been watching me with concern, tilted her head quizzically. “I… What do you mean?”

I looked up at her, a wry smile twisting my lips. “I gave Harry advice about mastering his hidden power, told him how important it was to understand and control it. And all this time, I’ve been running away from my own.”

My laughter grew, tinged with a hint of hysteria. The absurdity of the situation, the fear, the relief of survival, all of it bubbled up and spilled out in that laughter.

As my laughter subsided, I felt a shift within me. The fear was still there, a constant companion when it came to the void. It was, however, now tempered with determination. I had survived this encounter with the void, had even managed to assert a level of control over it.

Perhaps it was time to take my own advice.

“I can’t keep running from this.” I said, more to myself than to Helena. “If I’m going to face what’s coming, I need to understand all of my abilities. Even the ones that terrify me.”

I stood up slowly, my legs still a bit shaky. The path ahead was daunting, filled with unknown dangers. I took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope.

I had taken the void into myself and come back. Perhaps with some real practice, I could learn to master it.

“No more running.” I muttered to myself. “And yet even then, I still was. Jesus Christ, I’m stupid.”

Helena’s ethereal form shifted slightly, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “What are you going to do, now?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself both physically and mentally. The weight of my recent experiences with the void, coupled with the realization of my own hypocrisy, had brought a newfound clarity. I knew what I had to do next.

“It’s time.” I said, my voice firmer than I expected. “For me to speak with Dumbledore.”

Helena’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across her spectral features.

“Dumbledore?” She echoed. “Are you certain?”

I nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“As certain as I can be, given everything that’s happened.” I ran a hand through my hair, a nervous habit I’d never quite shaken. “I’ve been keeping too many secrets, Helena. Trying to handle everything on my own. And look where that’s gotten me.”

I gestured around the room, as if the very walls could testify to the ordeal I’d just been through.

“I nearly lost myself to the void. Grindelwald’s out there, plotting who knows what. Entire countries destroyed by unknown forces. And I’m… I’m one guy. A guy with some unusual abilities and knowledge, sure, but still just one guy. I can’t fight an army.”

Helena floated closer, her presence warm and comforting.

“You’ve shouldered burdens that would crush most grown wizards.” She said softly. “But why Dumbledore? Why now?”

I sighed, collecting my thoughts.

“Because, well… He’s Dumbledore.” I said simply, as if that were the only explanation I needed. “He’s not perfect, I know that. But he’s wise, he’s powerful, and most importantly, he cares. Unlike Snape, he actually cares.”

I started pacing, my energy returning as I spoke.

“I’ve been so leery of making big moves. But things are starting to fly out of everyone’s control, aren’t they? The attack last summer, this tournament, the attack at the end… none of that happened in the prime timeline.”

I stopped, turning back to Helena. “I need guidance, Helena. And as much as I appreciate your help and Alef’s, there are some things that only Dumbledore might understand. About the nature of this world, about the bigger picture.”

Helena nodded slowly, a look of understanding dawning on her face. “You intend to tell him everything, don’t you? About your… unique situation?”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I’m far past the point where my foreknowledge alone can help. I need Dumbledore’s wisdom, his experience. I need a powerful ally in my corner.”

Helena was silent for a moment, her form shimmering slightly as she considered my words. Finally, she spoke, her voice carrying a note of pride. “You’ve grown, Zero. Truly grown. It takes great courage to seek help, to admit when you’re out of your depth.”

I felt a warmth in my chest at her words, a small boost to my wavering confidence. “Thank you, Helena. That… that means a lot.”

As I moved towards the door of the Room of Requirement, I paused, looking back at the ghostly figure of Ravenclaw’s daughter.

“Wish me luck?” I asked, a hint of my usual humor creeping back into my voice.

Helena smiled, a sight that never failed to lift my spirits. “You don’t need luck. You have courage, intelligence, and a good heart. Those will serve you far better than luck ever could.”

With a grateful nod, I squared my shoulders and stepped out of the Room of Requirement. The corridor stretched before me, leading towards Dumbledore’s office and, I hoped, towards answers and aid.

With each step, my resolve strengthened. Whatever came next, whatever revelations or consequences awaited me in Dumbledore’s office, I knew I was making the right choice. It was time to face the truth, all of it, and hope that in doing so, we might find a way to face the chaos gathering on the horizon.

The corridors of Hogwarts seemed longer than usual as I made my way there. Each step echoed in the empty hallways, matching the rhythm of my racing heart. The weight of my decision pressed down on me, growing heavier with every passing moment.

Finally, I rounded the last corner and saw it— the imposing gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s sanctuary. I approached slowly, my footsteps faltering as I drew near. This was it. The point of no return.

I stood before the stone guardian, gathering my courage. My mind raced through all the possible passwords Dumbledore might have chosen. Sweets? Magical artifacts? Obscure philosophical concepts?

Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to speak, to try my first guess at the password that would grant me entry.

But before I could utter a single syllable, a voice called out from the side, breaking the silence and shattering my concentration.

“Mr. Clarke?”

I turned, startled by the unexpected interruption. There, striding towards me with his characteristic flourish, was none other than Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.

As our eyes met, I felt a chill run down my spine. Something in Lockhart’s expression, a glint in his eye perhaps, told me that this was no chance encounter. Whatever was about to happen, I realized with a sinking feeling, might very well derail my carefully laid plans.

The gargoyle stood silent and impassive behind me, Dumbledore’s office tantalizingly out of reach. And before me, Lockhart approached, his usual beaming smile somehow more unsettling than ever before.